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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29994618">The Little Things</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gallowmere/pseuds/Gallowmere'>Gallowmere</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Compilation of Final Fantasy VII</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Avalanche, Fluff, Friendship Stuff, Gen, Maybe - Freeform, Oneshot, Please r&amp;r, just friendship stuff, not intended as shippy</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-03-12</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-03-12</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-15 19:00:51</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,095</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29994618</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gallowmere/pseuds/Gallowmere</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>It was the little things that made him feel human again.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Aerith Gainsborough &amp; Vincent Valentine</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>3</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>23</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>The Little Things</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>He’d expected it would go much the same as always when the coffin lid cracked open again. The intruder would take one look at him and decide it was best not to get involved, they should never have tried to solve Hojo’s sick game in the first place. They’d replace the lid – maybe they’d do him the courtesy of putting it back gently, trying not to disturb him. Most likely they wouldn’t. </p><p>But that didn’t happen this time. </p><p>This time, it was a group. Talking among themselves, and talking to him. Trying to wake him. </p><p>So he played along. Forcing his dusty eyes open just enough to see, he sat up and fixed them with a dead man’s stare. </p><p>As expected, most of them backed off, or looked at little unnerved.</p><p>The girl in pink did neither. </p><p>She was watching him closely, her green eyes vibrant in the dark, and empathetic. </p><p>Instead of the usual questions – what happened? - or more often – what are you? - she tipped her head to one side and asked, “Are you all right?”</p><p>					~		~</p><p>Things went back to normal swiftly enough after that: although he’d agreed to join the group, most of them were still frightened and unnerved by him, just as it should be. </p><p>Except for her. The girl in pink – Aerith, he’d learnt her name before any other – kept acting as though he was just like any other man. She’d check in with him after battles, ask what he was thinking when he kept staring off at the horizon. </p><p>I’d forgotten the colour of the sunset, and the colour of twilight, he could have said. And the scent of the mountain air, or the bite of the outdoors on the skin in autumn. </p><p>But he wouldn’t. He’d just shake his head and say it was nothing, that she didn’t need to worry about it. </p><p>“Seems pretty intense for ‘nothing’,” she’d say, giggling at him. </p><p>Her responses baffled him, almost unnerved him the way he usually did to other people. He couldn’t find a sure footing around her, because she kept so stubbornly refusing to be afraid of him. </p><p>Worse still, it seemed to be catching. The others were very slowly starting to get used to him – Red XIII would wordlessly walk next to him sometimes, seeming to sense Vincent was as long-lived as he was, Tifa would start chatting to him sometimes when he helped her cook, and even their youngest, Yuffie, was never discouraged in the slightest when he’d answer the questions she fired at him with one or two word answers. </p><p>He needed to find a way to get them to stop, to understand he was a monster and should be treated as such. </p><p>As it happened, his wish was granted sooner rather than later.</p><p>One day on their way up the mountain trail, he’d blocked an attack for one of his comrades; he didn’t remember who. </p><p>Because the need that had been building in him for days – the furious fire that ran under his skin and made him want to peel back the layers of his flesh so that something new could roam loose – finally broke free.</p><p>The agony was white hot and intense; Vincent doubled over as if he could contain it but within seconds his vision was flooded by red and the Galian Beast possessed his body. </p><p>The rest of the fight was a blur and he was left standing rigid and tense as all the power flooded off him like water, and he was stood on the plains once more in his usual shape. </p><p>Planet, he’d forgotten how much transforming hurt. It was like his skin had been pulled apart and melded back together, raw and tingling all over. He gripped his arms across his body, forcing himself to breathe slow and manage the pain, and looked back expectantly at the stunned members of AVALANCHE. </p><p>Those among them whose personal hatred for Shinra burnt brightest – Yuffie, Barret, Cid – they looked at him with untrusting eyes, likely knowing where the source of his powers had come from. The rest looked a mixture of fearful and apprehensive, not approaching him. </p><p>He grunted softly in pain in the back of his throat as he straightened up to full height, wincing at the way his spine seemed to crack as his bones settled back into place. </p><p>No, this was good. This was as it should be. He was a monster and he deserved every bit of pain his demons could afford him…</p><p>A gentle hand touched his arm. He flinched, not having expected anyone, but she didn’t pull away. </p><p>Her green eyes looked intently into his inhuman red ones. </p><p>“Are you all right?” she asked again. </p><p>Vincent’s brow furrowed, still not understanding why she was here. How she could look at him that way. </p><p>He was almost transfixed by the steadiness of her gaze and whether in answer to her question or in expression of his own confusion, he shook his head. </p><p> </p><p>					~		~</p><p> </p><p>The group wasn’t up long after that, pitching their tents soon afterward. Vincent was in too much pain to sleep, and with the transformations taking such a toll on his body, it was hard to stay on his feet even minutes afterward. </p><p>As soon as the group was done for the night, he rested his aching back against a sturdy tree and sank down to the ground, falling into a painful stupor. </p><p>He silently prayed the group would leave him be, would understand what they’d seen today didn’t even cover the depths of his monstrousness...but for some reason, some part of him felt soothed. Ever since Aerith had touched his arm, the usual numbness had lifted, even if only a little. </p><p>The dreams left him be that night. </p><p>He woke once, drowsily, to find someone had put a blanket over him and that Red XIII’s head and paws were resting over his legs, the great animal’s body helping to keep him warm. </p><p>He was so weak. He should have told the creature to stay away, let him be cold and aching in peace. But the transformation had robbed his energy reserves so badly he just didn’t have the energy to do it. </p><p>And he was so, so tired of the cold. </p><p> </p><p>						~		~</p><p> </p><p>From there things only got worse. Instead of rejecting him and being repulsed by him, the group accommodated him and cared for him. Yuffie even had a certain bloodthirsty approval of his demons, in the same way children thought scars and scary stories were cool badges of honour rather than anything to be ashamed of. </p><p>And worse, Vincent found he...liked it. Sometimes they’d be sitting around their campfire for a night, talking about anything and nothing, and he’d find himself saying more than one or two words that night. The surprised looks he’d get when he was more conversational than a log started to fade, and the group would encourage him to talk, Aerith especially. </p><p>One night he found that the two of them were the last up, so he rested his clawed hand in his lap where she could see it – a reminder of what he was – and asked, “Why?”</p><p>“Why what?” she asked, smiling in that mischievous way she had when she probably already knew exactly what he meant. </p><p>He gestured with his claw like he could summon the words out of thin air. He’d never been eloquent when talking about anything that mattered; his time in the coffin had only worsened that. “Why do you treat me as you would anyone else? The others might have kept their distance if it hadn’t been for them following your lead.”</p><p>“Do you want them to keep their distance?”</p><p>“Yes,” Vincent said immediately, trying to ignore the twisting in his gut. “Of course.”</p><p>“Why?”</p><p>“Because I’m a danger to all of you. A monster. Nothing good can come from any association with me.”</p><p>She shook her head, no pity in her expression. Just a resolute determination. “Except that that isn’t true, Vincent. You pretend otherwise, but I find you a thoughtful and caring person and I enjoy your company. You may have creatures living within you that the rest of us don’t, but you’ve never put a scratch on any of us, now have you?”</p><p>He opened his mouth to protest and again the words failed him. She had a way of phrasing things in a way that made them difficult to dispute. He had tried to be cold, but he’d also tried not to be a burden on the group, and to look after its members in his own way – a secret way no one else would notice. </p><p>Except Aerith had eyes far sharper than her appearance belied, and she was never one to lie or sugarcoat the truth. </p><p>Even still, he found himself shaking his head, desperate to protest somehow. </p><p>“Why do you want them to hate you, and keep their distance from you?” she pressed on. “Why do you want me to do that?”</p><p>He looked up, grateful for an easy question. “Because it’s what I deserve.”</p><p>Again, the slow, mischievous smile spreading across her face. She flicked her long braid back over her shoulder and stood, approaching him so quickly he didn’t have time to prepare himself for what she did next.</p><p>She let down and hugged him. </p><p>Vincent tensed. It had been so long since he had been held; he couldn’t even remember the last time. All his memories were dominated by Hojo – the scientist transporting his wounded body between the operating table, and healing tubes, and finally down the dark, winding staircase to the prison of his little room in the basement. </p><p>Vincent didn’t know how to think of the former scientist – words he’d expected to use like cruel and evil fell short, somehow. The scientist was merely pragmatic to an extreme. Vincent was in the way, so Hojo shot him. Vincent was young and strong, so the scientist decided to experiment on him. Outside of the gunshot and the pain caused by the demons, the scientist didn’t go out of his way to cause Vincent pain – he just did what was necessary and recorded the results. </p><p>But Vincent had still been reduced to just a piece of meat to be injected and experiment upon on his table. There was nothing human about the way he was dragged around and imprisoned within the scientist’s labs. How could there be?</p><p>But with Aerith’s touch – her hug gentle as if she somehow knew what might be flashing through his mind – the pain of the memories didn’t overwhelm him. He didn’t trust it, but he couldn’t bring himself to pull away. </p><p>It was like a muscle that had been tensed this entire time was unclenching, just a little. His throat constricted and the shock of tears stung his eyes. He blinked furiously, desperately wanting the deadened feeling back. Aerith squeezed a little tighter. </p><p>“Hm, no,” she said. “I don’t think that’s why you’re like this.”</p><p>He raised his claw to hug her back, stopping himself before he could touch her. The sharp golden appendage was hideous, he shouldn’t put it anywhere near her -</p><p>She leant back suddenly and took his claw in both her hands, squeezing even though she couldn’t have known he could still feel the pressure in that hand, even if only a little. </p><p>“It’s OK,” she said, looking into his face. He struggled to control his expression, make it blank again, but she didn’t comment on it. Her eyes were soft. “You’re with us now. Just give it time.”</p><p>Then she let go of his hand, and walked off to her tent with a wave of her hand. </p><p>Vincent closed his fist, clenching his hand. It was such a little thing, really, a still tingling warmth in the usually cold and forbidding metal he called a hand now, but he felt almost...comforted.</p><p>He stood, crossing the campsite to the spot where Red was. He leant up against a rock, silently inviting the creature to lie down next to him to keep warm. Red took the hint, but Vincent didn’t go to sleep right away. Instead he looked up at the stars, contemplative as he petted his fingers through Red’s fur.</p><p>More than comforted, even, he felt almost...human. </p><p>He turned his head to watch the silhouette of Aerith put out the light in her tent so she could sleep. </p><p>He’d underestimated her. Far from the scary Turk warped into a house for demons, the most dangerous one of their group was her, by a long chalk.</p>
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